Tasmania - On the Road Again

March 22-26, #27

After crossing the Tasman bridge for the last time, we both sighed with relief, ready to make new tracks on a more direct route to Port Arthur. Our first stop would be Sorell and then on to Dunalley before crossing Eaglehawk Neck to the Tasman Peninsula.

Sorell

Our commute to Sorell was surprisingly uneventful. After leaving the outlying communities surrounding Hobart, we were able to ride bike trails past Hobart Airport and across the expansive outlet of Coal River.

From now on our camping options would be limited. No longer traveling between remote areas, we were now weaving in and out of small communities which meant wild camping was not realistic. We now had to decide whether to push the bounds of self-contained RV park regulations, unapologetically posted, and typically with no host on-site.

The sole camping option in Sorell was a self-contained RV park near the center of town, located next to a sports complex and dog park. Rather than risk being told to leave after depositing the fee, we decided to head for the bushes across from the RV parking lot, next to the BMX track, just before dusk. Definitely our most vagabond spot of the trip thus far, but we still “left no trace”- aka, were “self-contained” in RV speak.

Carlton River

The next morning we intended to reach Dunalley. But after almost 30 kilometers, and pushing each other up a ridiculously, curvy hill with no shoulder, we were distracted by a “Hip Camp” sign, that just happened to be at the base of our next long climb. Somehow…we ended up camped in this field, watching a rainbow and having a beer with a surfer from Colorado, turned Tasmanian “hippy” camp host. It was a trip, man…

Dunalley

The next day, only 12 kilometers later, we arrived in Dunalley and decided to make it a short day. Here we were able to upgrade our accommodations to the Golf Course parking lot with access to their amenities and pub, avoiding another self-contained RV parking lot dilemma. More importantly, another wind storm was in the forecast, giving us plenty of justification for a couple days rest before continuing on to Port Arthur. Our decision was well rewarded with the juxtaposition of a country bakery next to a citified-organic cafe, and along the harbor, the most delicious seafood we have had in Tasmania. Unfortunately, our visit was not well-timed to catch the town’s most recent celebrity, Neil, in action - if you are curious who that might be click here.

Eagle Hawk Neck

As much as I long for flat stretches of riding, the vistas when we do get them atop a hill, through a clearing in the bush, or a break in the trees, make it all worthwhile. We have yet to tire of gazing across this landscape. In fact, we found it is even possible to spend an entire afternoon looking at pavement…

Looking across to Tasman Peninsula & Pirate’s Cove

Port Arthur Welcome Party

Somehow we managed to ride through the cross winds whipping across Eagle Hawk Neck and arrived at the Port Arthur Caravan Park just before dusk.

At our campsite, we were surprised to find a feathered welcoming committee quite interested in what we might be unpacking or mixing in our cups. Fortunately, we had already eaten dinner at the Inn just a few meters back, so we wouldn’t be tempting them further.

So far our routine of packing away our food in our panniers on our bikes and setting our alarms seemed to be enough of a deterrent. Any time it went off, by the time we had both our torch and our head out of the tent, whatever had set it off was nowhere to be seen, or we would surmise it was probably the wind.

However….on this night - not so much… When the alarm bells went off on Nivaun’s phone, the perpetrator was easily identified - a brush-tail possum had taken an interest in his panniers, and another smaller one was standing by taking notes. Once Nivaun managed to get them to move a ways away, we went back to bed, hoping it was enough of a surprise that they wouldn’t reoffend.

Some time later, my auditory radar still scanning the air waves - I heard scraping on plastic. This time, I got out of the tent first, not realizing I would then have to confront the possum still perched on the rear rack. This bugger had no sense of personal space. Once she realized I wasn’t moving either, she begrudgingly jumped down and sat a few feet away - apparently waiting for me to leave. I somehow managed to get her to move to a nearby tree, expecting she would go up it. But no…she sat there…staring back at me in such a way that prompted my brain to start talking aloud to her about how in spite of being so cute, she needed to go. Im sure at this point our tent neighbors were either highly annoyed or trying to contain their laughter.

Realizing her persistence was going to make this an all night game, I went back to the tent puzzling over what she might be after, when Nivaun remembered, he had left the plastic container to his chocolate cookies in the outside pouch. And would you believe it - as soon as we got rid of it - she never returned.